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Reflected

Can we chat about breasts for a moment? They’re great, they look nice, they’re fun to play with blah blah blah, okay we’re done with that part.

I sprouted breasts stupidly early, and because young men and women aren’t taught about puberty and respect for one another’s bodies early enough, my breasts were a fascination to everyone else but me. I wanted to tape them down until I was old enough to wear a bikini and let them fulfill their true purpose (I was ten, that’s the only thing boobs seem to be good for when you’re ten.) I dreaded PE and anything that made it obvious that I had breasts. Boys said stupid things like, “Those aren’t real. You’re stuffing.” What do you even say to that? If I bothered to comment on their authenticity, it was often met with, “Prove it.” My mom taught me to tell boys to fuck off at young age.

I was also unusually tall when I was ten. I was the same height as the two tallest boys in my grade, who were very tall. My stepdad walked me to my first day of grade four, looked in the classroom and declared that we were in the wrong place; the children were way too small to be my classmates. The teacher checked my name against her list and assured him that we were in the right place and that his daughter was an exceptional height.

Let’s all take a moment and laugh at the situation. I grew to be a giant 5’3″ and stopped.

But back then, I stood out.

I was tall for ten years old, and I had breasts that garnered unwanted attention. I dressed like a boy for a year in huge t-shirts and track pants; girl’s clothing wouldn’t have fit anyway. I don’t even want to talk about how my parents bought my clothes so that I would grow into them. I didn’t. I wore big clothes for a long time.

I also learned that if I hunched over, my breasts were less visible. Almost 20 years later and I’m still trying to correct my posture.

Puberty is awkward as fuck.

Being an adult is awkward as fuck. Does every affordable bra have to be covered in hot pink zebra print with level 10 push-up? Do I seriously need to have cleavage up to my neck? Why are visible bra straps so risqué? I get mixed messages about breasts all the time. You’re not attractive unless you have big, full breasts. If you have big full breasts, you’re supposed to want people to notice them. If you have small breasts, you should want them to be bigger so people will notice them. Breasts are for the enjoyment of other people, but you can’t enjoy your own breasts without being a show-off. You should be modest about your breasts. You have to wear a bra, but you’re totally indecent if anyone can tell that you’re wearing one. You should be proud of them, except when there is an infant attached, and then they’re gross, please put them away. Pushup bras are fine, but bra straps are a no-no. Gratuitous cleavage is fine, but visibly cold nipples are not. I’m 29 years old and I’m still brutally uncomfortable with my nipples poking out, and I’m not sure why. That’s what nipples do when it’s cold. It’s fine for everyone else to have nipples, but my own are strange to me. Who decides this bullshit? All the things we’re taught about breasts are wrong.

I just made an investment in being a woman and spent $345 on nine bras. I went to a lingerie shop that wasn’t LaSenza and was properly fitted. I’m not a 34, I’m a 30. I’m not a C, I’m an E. And before you lose your marbles, it has everything to do with where the underwire sits. For years and years I’ve been wearing the wrong size and the underwire has been sitting on top of breast tissue. NO WONDER WOMEN HATE WEARING BRAS, it’s not supposed to be that way. I compensated for the wrong cup size by wearing a band size that was much too big. My natural waist is a 27, and now that I think about it, there is no way that the band size under my breasts is seven inches bigger.

I also ditched the molded cup and went for lace. For the first time in my life, my breasts don’t look like they’re sitting on a shelf. They look much more natural and soft than pretend implants. And… the buttons on my shirts are staying closed because my breasts aren’t sitting artificially high on my chest. I also said no to a soft cup, because nipples are real and we should stop pretending they don’t exist. I think I’m confident enough to tell someone to stop looking at them, or at least I will be with some practice. Do one thing every day that scares you, and for a while that will be wearing an unlined bra.

After twenty years, I think I’ve accepted that I have breasts and that I don’t need to dress them up or down for anyone other than myself. I have breasts, they are on my body. And really, they are none of your business.

The first step to overcoming a problem is admitting that you have one, right? See my Instagram account for my nail polish and makeup collection at home.

And now I bring you to the contents of my drawers at work. Let’s go through this, shall we?

Should I be ashamed?

Mr. Sketch Scented Markers

SPF 15 Sunscreen (you know, for when I eat lunch in the park in the summer)

THREE sticks of antiperspirant

TWO tubes of toothpaste

Toothbrush

TWO cartridges of floss (apparently I am dedicated to my oral hygiene)

Floss threaders for flossing under my permanent retainer, SO SHEXY!

Foot powder

FIVE tubes of lotion

Hairbrush

Nail strengthener

Nail file

Nail whitening pencil

Nail brush

Fully stocked makeup bag

iPhone charging cable

ereader charging cable

Vicks Vapor Inhaler

Eleventy billion bobby pins

Cotton pads

TWO glass cleaning cloths

TWELVE pencils

THREE bottles of essential oil

Paper coaster

Perfume sample

Thumb drive with all my personal secrets

EIGHT different kinds of tea

EmergenC vitamin drink packets

Granola

Bikini bottoms

Jawbreakers

Mints

Stamps

PAPER

It took me five years to accumulate this amount of crap at work. I think it’s safe to say that I’m prepared for pretty much anything and I have no excuses for ever looking like a train wreck at work, and yet sometimes I still do. I can justify everything in my drawers except the bikini bottoms. I’m not sure why those are here and why they aren’t at home with their compadres. MYSTERIES! Also, send help. I need to do something about this.

I’m tired. I’ve only had two hours of sleep. I danced until 4am. I watched the sun rise. I trekked around in wet grass in my pajamas. I found my bed when people were getting up.

And yet here I am, in a car full of people that I don’t know very well, but I’ve become quite fond of. I’m the driver and we’re speeding down the I-91. It’s hot, and we’re all tired, and in all fairness, we’re hungover. We’re following a car of people that are guiding us toward a promise of a swimming pool and relaxation. It’s a long drive. Thanks to an upgraded car rental, we’re driving the Hot Passat and we’re listening to CBC Radio 2, which is suggested after listening to terrible R&B from the 90’s. The car is packed with luggage and remnants from the previous day’s wedding, along with my four companions.

Vampire Weekend’s Unbelievers comes on the radio and one of my car mates asks if I will turn it up. I oblige; I also like the song. He hasn’t said much the whole weekend, but he’s singing loud enough that I can hear him from the front. I quietly join. It’s not long before all five of us are singing in some way or another. I can’t help but think in a couple of hours this will all be over. One of us will have to go back to London; one of us is moving to Turkey; one of is returning to Haida Gwaii; only myself and another are going home to Vancouver. I will likely never have these people together in my car again, so I smile and enjoy the moment.

It is a song that will play over and over in my head for weeks to come. Of all the songs, this is the song that defines my summer. It’s unexpected in a time of Daft Punk’s Get Lucky and Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. There is nothing about the moment that I would change, it’s perfect for everything that it is.

Back in February Twitter opened their hearts and shared their stories for Bell’s Let’s Talk day, and then the conversation died. Around the same time, my world was collapsing.

Actually, my life began to implode sometime in November. I kept waiting for things to get better. I should have known something was up when I didn’t want to have anything to do with Christmas, because it’s my favourite time of year. My heart is usually bursting with joy and I’m that sick individual who counts down the last 100 days to December 25th. I didn’t feel it. I felt angry and numb instead. I didn’t put up my Christmas tree or decorate. I made one batch of chocolate gingerbread cookies, but I gave most of those away.

Around the beginning of December I lost my appetite and developed insomnia. I told myself it was stress. I did not want to go to the doctor because I knew the first thing they would do was put me on medication and I’m a bit of a hippy when it comes to pharmaceuticals. Less is best.

I kept waiting for things to get better. But they didn’t. I told myself I would feel better once Christmas was over, but if anything, I felt worse. I told myself I was worked up over the anticipation of going back to school and things would settle down once I got into a rhythm. But they didn’t.

And then my friend passed away. It was the first time anyone my age had died. It sent me into a downward spiral. I was dealing with this crushing sadness and I didn’t know where to go from there. I felt helpless.

I was having a hard time at work, too. I didn’t tell my employer I was taking evening classes and my work was slipping because I was so tired from staying up every night to write papers and study. The few hours I spent in bed were broken, and many nights I just didn’t sleep at all because I couldn’t.

There was major upheaval in my husband’s company. There were times I had to ask him not to tell me any more because I just couldn’t handle it.

My relationships were falling apart and I began to withdraw from the people that love and care about me. I couldn’t exactly explain how I was feeling. There were nights when all I could do was sit in the bathtub with a drink to numb the sadness and anxiety.

And then my grandfather passed away. I can’t say it was unexpected, but it was one more thing to add to the burning pile of emotions I didn’t want to deal with.

Things were going to get better, I kept telling myself as I sat crying for no reason, almost every day. I’m tired and stressed out because of school/work/marriage/family/deaths/friends… it’s going to get better.

Except it didn’t. I started to run out of excuses for things. I finished school for the semester. My husband’s company was doing a lot better. My life was settling down and yet I wasn’t. The more stuff began to wind down the more anxious and sad I became.

And then I had an unfortunate experience online where a friend’s privacy was breached and several conversations between us were leaked. The information itself didn’t hurt anyone but us, but what followed did. My friends thought they were doing the right thing by standing up for me, but the things they said were misinterpreted and it ended up hurting other people. It was never the intention, but the fallout was huge. All they were trying to do was protect me. People were calling for my head to roll. I did my best to apologize to those I had unintentionally hurt, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly I felt very alienated from my online community. I had to step away because everything I said and did was being mocked by a small group of people who really had no idea what was going on.

That was the last straw for me. There was no longer one single aspect of my life that I was comfortable in. I felt like I had let everyone down. I felt worthless. I felt terribly alone. I had this crushing sadness. I wanted to throw my phone off of a very tall building, seemingly every notification was bad news or someone flipping out at me for my poor life choices.

I had a few full-scale meltdowns and anxiety attacks. The kind of anxiety where you think your heart is trying to escape your chest and you’re not sure if anything in your world is ever going to be right again. I dwelled in that place for a few weeks.

I finally admitted THINGS WERE NOT OKAY and I WAS NOT GETTING BETTER. I didn’t know where to begin to regain control of my life. I had no idea what I wanted or who I was anymore. I didn’t love who I had become and I didn’t know how to change things. I was overwhelmed and terrified I was going to fuck up the rest of my life. I hit my bottom and couldn’t find the way out of the hole I was in.

I made a critical choice and decided to talk to someone and GET SOME HELP. I accepted that I couldn’t do it on my own anymore and as much as I was leaning on friends and family, I needed something more.

Bottom line, every two weeks I sit down and meet with a qualified professional. Some days are better than others, but I’m having more good days than bad ones. Not everything is such a big deal any more, and I’m learning to take life one day at a time. I still struggle, but at least I don’t feel like the sun is never going to shine for me again.

Why am I telling you this? I’m telling you because on the outside- my life looks fantastic. I’m married, I own a home, I have a stable job, and I have a lot of friends and I’m living the dream. On the inside, though, I was going through hell.

We don’t talk about mental health, and I don’t know why. For me, it was one more thing for people to judge me for. I had a lot to be grateful for and I felt selfish for not being able to appreciate my life because it could be so much worse. It was thrown in my face a number of times. Depression and anxiety can hit anyone, and it often comes without warning. Instead of telling someone it gets better, shut up and listen to them. Maybe you know someone who is in my position, or maybe it’s you. Either way, you don’t have to do this alone.

Mental health is so important. Take care of it. You go to the doctor, dentist, optometrist, specialist etc. when things in your body aren’t working, so why are we so afraid to take care of our mental health? Why do we wait until everything around us collapses before we seek help?

It’s part of taking care of you and there is no shame in that.

I’d like to thank all of the amazing people who have rallied around me, especially over the last six months. There have been some awfully dark days, and without your love and support God only knows what would have happened. I borrowed your strength when I could not find my own, and I’m getting the help I need because you told me I was worth it, even when I felt like I was not. Thank you for loving me, no matter what.

What would you do if you didn’t need anyone’s approval? What would you do with your life if you weren’t afraid of hurting anyone or letting anyone down? What would you do? Who would you go after? What chances would you take? Where would you go?

I was asked those questions yesterday. I’m not going to share how I answered, but I can honestly say that those questions are consuming me right now.

Last night I got the phone call that no one ever wants to get. One of my best friends caught me on the bus, and she initially didn’t want to talk to me until I got home. I’m not one to wait, so I pressed her. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but David is dead.” I was shattered, and 25 minutes later it hit me and the tears came. Crying in public really sucks.

One of the brightest lights I’ve ever known was put to darkness on Friday, and I am shattered. May God keep and protect you, my friend.

I met David when he was 14 years old. I was a youth leader for the girl’s group that was the same age, and naturally I ended up spending a lot of time with him. David loved the girls, all the boys in his group did. For all intents and purposes, they were the same group. They were incredibly close-knit. However, David drove me CRAZY. I was constantly telling David to sit down and be quiet and to stop harassing the girls. He was really great at riling everyone up, and then he’d step back and watch it all unravel.

SURPRISE!

He took great joy in making me angry. He loved it.

One night I was driving David home from a youth event and he was being especially obnoxious. He kept turning my hazard lights on, changing the radio station, rolling his window up and down, emptying the glove box and asking about every single content… and then he turned to me and said, “Can you even see over the steering wheel?” I saw red. I immediately pulled over and said, “GET OUT.” True to David fashion, he undid his belt, opened the door, got out, and then yelled as loud as he could, “I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO TAKE CANDY FROM STRANGERS!” and he slammed the door and took off running down the block. I was furious. And worried, too, because it was my responsibility to make sure that he got home okay and I’d kicked him out of my car.

One Halloween the group went door-to-door to collect non-perishables for The Harvest Project. The boys thought it would be funny to bang on doors and yell, “THIS IS THE FBI, OPEN UP!” Yeah. Not good. Someone definitely called the cops. I heard about this after the fact, but the general consensus was, “DON’T TELL ROCHELE. SHE’LL KILL US.” So right, I probably would have.

One of the Calgary trips to Legacy Youth Conference, and our excellent friend Cody in the background.

I went on a number of trips as a youth leader, and David managed to get into trouble on every single one of them. We visited a rooftop garden, and David got kicked out for climbing a statue. We rode Calgary’s C-train, and David convinced some of the boys to go train hopping. At one platform he wasn’t fast enough and the train left without him. Playing ice hockey on another Calgary trip, he managed to gash his forehead open. On a camping trip he and others decided it would be funny to relocate my tent to the bushes, upside down.

David also knew that if he needed help, he could call. And he did.

Being a youth leader <3

Despite all his shenanigans, David had a heart of gold and he loved everyone. I don’t know if David ever said no to helping another individual. He saw it as a way of life to help others. As a youth and a young adult, David gave his time to Heinz 5-7, he became a youth leader, he went on missions trips, he played on our church’s soccer teams, and he was involved in our church’s young adult group. David was a man of God. You could practically feel the light of God radiating off of David. I’ve never met a happier, more upbeat individual. He always had a smile on his face, or was on the precipice of smiling.

After high school, David was no longer one of my charges, he was one of my peers. We were in a young adult’s small group together, and we met once a week for Bible Study and fellowship. I will confess that I fell asleep almost every single week, and more often than not I was cuddled up to David. I learned more about David that year than I did the previous five as his youth leader. His high school academic career left him a little short of achieving the credits he needed to get into post-secondary, but that didn’t stop David. He buckled down as a young adult and upgraded his courses and he made it. He worked really hard, and I’m really proud of him for going to school. I’m really proud of David. He is everything that a man should be.

David locked me out of my car, the boys think this is hilarious

I lost contact with my church and many of my friends when I got married and moved away from North Van. I’ve probably only seen David a handful of times in the last four years, but as always, the guy was smiling. I’m having a hard time understanding how someone with so much light and love in his heart would take his own life. I understand that he struggled with mental illness, but that it was relatively new development in his life.

I’m shattered. An overwhelming group of us gathered at the church last night. I felt really numb. There were so many people who loved David. I struggled to look his best friends in the eye. If my heart was broken then what were they feeling? I had no words. I attempted to go for a bite to eat and a drink last night, but half-way through my beer and less than half-way through my food I just wanted to vomit. I felt like my soul weighed a million pounds. I pretty much fell into bed around midnight last night, but it was restless sleep. I woke up crying and shaking at 3am and realized with such horror that this is not a dream.

We just came out of the Let’s Talk campaign last week, and for David to take his own life just days later really rattles me. YOU WERE SO LOVED, DAVID MACGREGOR! How did you not know that? There is a community that will never, ever forget you and all the light that you bestowed upon it. I thank God for your life.

Just before 2012 came to a close I posted BUCKET LISTS AND RESOLUTIONS and for myself an important part of goal setting is staying on track. So.. how am I doing?

Do well in school. Starting January 8th I’ll be a part-time student. I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m ready. I’m a student. It’s official. It happened. Tuesday evening I printed off my course outline and a map of campus and off I went. I was hella nervous. I parked in some obscure parking lot and promptly got lost trying to find the book store. I found the campus pub instead. Turns out the book store is in the same building as the pub. Handy. I picked up my text books and then attempted to find the library. I got lost. Again. And again. And again. Eventually I found a group of young guys (first years) and smiled my sweetest smile and asked for directions. One of them practically walked me to the library, and then I had to get the hell out of dodge because he told me he liked my blue hair and did I want to grab a coffee sometime… sorry dude. Married. And way too old for you. Made it to the library and got my student ID. That’s what made it official for me, I have a student ID. And then I went to go find my class. I got lost. Why did I even bother bringing the map? And then I found where I thought I was supposed to be. Instead of writing down my class number, I wrote down my instructor’s office number. AWKWARD. Then I had to go hide and look up my class location on my Blackberry. MOST. FRUSTRATING. EXPERIENCE. EVER. Whatever, got lost a couple more times and eventually found my class. Class was great. I have homework already. I think I like school. I think I’ll like it more once I figure out how to get around campus. The remainder of my courses start February 20th. I’m doing okay.

Continue writing and tweeting for WFLBC. Yeah, haven’t started this yet. Soon.

Renovate the bathrooms. We’ve had all the materials for over a year, we just need to start. Nope.

Run 10km a week. This may seem like a small amount, but I am laughably slow. This I have actually started. I tweeted: First run of 2013: I’m gonna die. I didn’t die. I did really well. I felt great. My running partner and I have a training schedule and everything. I’ve run 8 km this week already. Go me! I think that I’ll have to increase the number of kilometres, I’ve only gone running twice this week and I underestimated my awesomeness. Guess who is looking forward to a hot bod this summer… THIS GIRL.

Continue with the Monday evening tradition that has become family dinner with my mom and sister. We had dinner together on New Years Day, but had to cancel for this week because our living room is in a state of chaos. We will resume next week.

Read a book a month for pleasure. Again, no small feat as I’ll be working full time and attending classes 12 hours a week, and then homework. Nope.

Go sailing. It’s been years since I was on a boat and I REALLY MISS IT. It’s January, come on..

Use my yacht club membership. If anything, it’s an excellent place to network and eat lunch. Nope. No time right now.

Try yoga and meditation. I’ve been praying if that counts as meditation… but somehow I don’t think so.

Pay attention to what I am eating- where it comes from, sustainability, GMO free… easier said than done. I’m about to become stupidly busy. FAILING BIG TIME.

Put $5,000 into savings on top of what is already being saved. Too busy to spend money, does that count? No? Then nope.

Volunteer my time for an organization dedicated to elevating girls in the world. Nope.

Sing in public. Maybe Rodyltin has a chance after all. I’ve booked singing lessons! I’ve started singing LOUD. I’m head over heels in love with Hannah Georgas right now, so I’m bringing a few of her songs with me to my first lesson in a couple of weeks.

Generally just be a rockstar. Blue hair. Voice lessons. I go to the gym. EXCEEDING BEYOND ALL EXPECTATIONS.

Solidify my love of all things space related with a tattoo. I’m collaborating with a couple of people to create something that is worth putting on me forever. This is a big deal.

Be free. Enjoy life. Keep laughing. This is surprisingly coming more naturally to me than I anticipated. The ‘be free’ part is a struggle sometimes, I tend to over-think and read into things. However, I saw my uncle yesterday and he told my mom that I am way too bubbly and upbeat for my own damn good. I’ll take it!

Take every opportunity to stare at the stars. Crappy Vancouver weather… so I read space blogs. Last year I was reading mom blogs. How things have changed.

Visit one far-away Twitter friend. The plans are in the works. Not sure how I’m going to justify it when we have family in England and France that need visiting, but I’ll find a way.

Let go of a couple of vices. Those who know, know. I think they are bringing me down and preventing me from reaching my potential. Ummm FAIL.

Eat more spinach. Working on it.

I’m feeling upbeat most of the time. I’ve been singing my heart out and not giving a damn. I’ve been listening to music while I run, and it makes me want to sing while I’m running, but I don’t because that is weird. Whatever, I am embracing my weirdness. I’m just being me. Shine bright like a galaxy (Rihanna can shove it.) I am really motivated to have a productive year. I went and bought the rest of the Good Fucking Design Advice mugs, and the Show some fucking passion. t-shirt for good measure.

On that note, how are your goals for 2013 coming along? Bret? Carly? Matty? Scott? Yeah, I’m calling you out and holding you accountable, friends.